


• Mirror Mirror •

by ShesGoneRogue



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Charmie - Fandom
Genre: Come Eating, Comeplay, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, First Time D/s, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesGoneRogue/pseuds/ShesGoneRogue
Summary: Armie helps Timmy discover a new side of himself.





	• Mirror Mirror •

**Author's Note:**

> Okay *deep breath* this one...*smh*...This one has been eating my lunch for Months now and I don't know why, but I've finally given up trying to figure it out.  
> Anyway, here it is.  
> Welcome to 'the fic that tried to kill Rogue'.
> 
> Thank you (is not enough) to my long-suffering beta, @thoresque. Your support and input on this anxiety ridden journey has been Invaluable.  
> You. Are. A. Gift.  
> ❤️
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own. (and I'm praying that there won't be many because I just don't know if I can even look at this one again after publishing.)  
> Please, be gentle.  
> {{Timothée's internal thoughts}}  
> • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"You're beautiful."

Timothée's cheeks flush a bright pink. He can't bring himself to raise his eyes.

"Tim," Armie prompts gently.

After another couple seconds of strained silence, " 'M skinny."His voice is hardly above a whisper, eyes resolutely trained on the hardwood floor.

" _Beautiful_ ," Armie insists, kissing his cheek tenderly before inching the hem of Timothée's shirt up and over his damp curls. He drops it to the side and smiles, his eyes alight with obvious appreciation for every new inch of skin revealed.

Timothée doesn't exactly shy away - he's used to being shirtless after weeks of filming - but he does squirm a little, his hands coming together to clasp awkwardly in front of his crotch, chin dropping slightly. This is uncharted territory for them. No cameras. No distractions. Just Armie's unwavering eyes on him...and the mirror.

"Relax," Armie admonishes softly, pulling him back against his chest.

Timothée obediently unclasps his hands and lets them fall to his sides as he leans back and breathes deeply.

Armie traces down the length of his arms and languidly glides light fingertips back up over his hips and exposed sides."I can't keep my hands off you." he murmurs, lips brushing delicately over the heated bloom in Timothée's cheeks.

Timothée makes a tiny noise and dares to open his eyes just a sliver.The image reflected back at him from the full length gilt mirror makes him lightheaded.Armie's hands are impossibly huge on him. His willowy frame looks so frail in comparison to their obvious strength.He inhales sharply and speaks in a brief rush of bravery before he can swallow the words. "I like having your hands on me." His voice is so small, growing softer with every syllable. "You make me feel safe." he finishes in a whisper, his eyes casting off to the side a little.

"You _are_ safe. I would never hurt you. You know that right?" He places a tender kiss in the crook of Timothée's shoulder, catching his eyes in the mirror.

Timothée swallows hard and fights the urge to look away.His face scrunches up involuntarily.He doesn't know how to answer him when all he really wants to do is beg for just exactly that. _{{Please hurt me}}_

"Do you want me to stop?" Armie asks cautiously when met with Timothée's silence.He hesitates, one hand splayed over his flat belly, the other across his narrow chest.

"No."

"Good." Another soft kiss. A hum of pleasure. A scrape of teeth over his earlobe. 

To Timothée, it feels like the highest of praise. His knees lurch a little with the sudden increase in his heart rate.

"You'll tell me if it gets to be too much." It's not a question. The pad of one finger finds Timothée's nipple and circles slowly as Armie's kiss opens up to suck at the tender flesh just beneath his ear, his eyes never straying from Timothée's until he nods in agreement.

Timothée's gaze grows heavy, eyelids drooping with arousal. The hideously patterned swim shorts he was required to wear for the last scene are skewed now—his erection tugging the front at an odd angle.

Armie speaks quietly against his skin as he studies Timothée’s response in the mirror. "Can I touch you?" The fingers of his lower hand barely skim the waistband of his shorts, seeking permission, as he presses his own hardness against the soft upper curve of Timothée's diminutive ass.

"Oui— yes. Please." The words trip over each other in a rush of heated breath.

Armie smiles again, clearly pleased with his courage and willingness to continue. His blue eyes flash even brighter from behind Timothée's soft sable curls as he explores further with inquisitive fingertips. "Tim, you have no idea what you do to me," he whispers in a quiet growl, eyes darkening as his hand slides down...and down. "I'm losing my mind.These scenes are torture."

The anticipation and erotic tenor of Armie's voice are killing him. _{{Is this really happening?}}_   Timothée sucks in a sharp gasp when Armie's fingers finally reach him. He's wet. _Throbbing_.Needy and confused. How could Armie want this?Want _him_?He's waiting for the punchline and resigned to die if-- _when_ \--Armie finally delivers it, but it never comes...

Armie lowers his other hand and makes quick work of the flimsy snap and zipper. The shorts slide down with hardly a sound, leaving Timothée bare and shivering under Armie's ravenous gaze. "My god.. _.look at you_ ," he exhales with quiet awe.

Timothée had quickly turned his head to the side at the sound of the snap giving way, reluctant to watch Armie expose him. He already knew what he would see...a child in the arms of a god—underdeveloped, _un_ worthy, _un_ desirable—and it makes him so far beyond self-conscious he doesn't even think there's a word for it. A wave of self-loathing nearly chokes him and he almost pulls away.

"No. _No no no_...shhhh."Armie's voice is soothing, grounding.His warm, strong embrace even more so. "Beautiful. _Perfect_.”Reverent fingers trace the groove of his groin. “So pale and smooth. God, _the things I want to do to you_...."One hand slides back up Timothée's body to his throat just as the other closes gently around the length of hisrigid cock.

Timothée makes a pitiful sound, somewhere between desire and disbelief, he can’t help himself. His eyes slowly turn back toward the mirror and he forgets how to breathe. 

Armie's sun-kissed arms hold Timothée tight - long, strong fingers curled around the pale column of his throat, around the rosy shaft of his cock.His eyes are gas-flame intense, raking over every trembling inch of Timothée's body before coming to rest on his again in the mirror. "I want to make you come," he rumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep down in his chest.

Timothée whimpers and shivers violently, his dick spasming hard in Armie's grip. He gives a tiny nod, not trusting his voice.

Armie’s eyes darken. “I need to hear you say it.” His grip tightens ever so slightly.

Timothée’s hands shift back to blindly grasp at the linen of Armie's shorts as he unabashedly pushes forward into his grip.He meets his own eyes briefly in the mirror: { _{Do I know you?}}_ “Y-yes.”

Armie flicks his tongue over the rim of Timothée's ear and thumbs his slit with a predatory smile, spreading the thick drops that well up over his shaft in a slow, deliberate stroke. "Good boy. Now... _watch_."

Timothée forgets about being self-conscious and obediently drops his eyes to the reflection of Armie's hand on his cock, thrusting again as he twists his grip. The sight of that giant hand stroking him is almost too much to process. Armie's fingers compress his throat and he bucks as a jolt of pleasure takes him completely by surprise, his own hand flying up to cover Armie's, silently pleading with scrabbling fingers for more force.

Armie bites at his shoulder in response and shifts his grip again, increasing the pressure by increments this time as his other hand clenches and jerks his cock just a little harder and faster. "Oh you _like_ that don't you, baby boy?"

Timothée makes a choked effort at responding, already nearly beside himself with pleasure. Breath restricted. Muscles tense. His vision quickly starts to dull around the edges as he focuses on the delicious slide of Armie's strong fingers over him. Just when he feels the sharp edge of orgasm flare in his core, Armie's hands soften and he finds himself whimpering and pleading for more, clinging to the edge of sanity, dick drooling a thick puddle onto the floorboards.

"Please...please—" His voice breaks, knees almost buckling as Armie grinds his own cock slowly, rhythmically against his ass.

"Please _what_ , Tim? Tell me what you need." His voice has a calm power to it that Timothée has never heard before, a precision to each syllable that makes his blood sing.

Timothée blinks rapidly, gasping as he tries to reel himself in. He was so close that the sudden loss of pressure and resulting deep ache in his balls momentarily renders him speechless.

Armie slowly releases his cock and moves to cup his balls. He fondles them gently for a moment, teasing the dull edge of his nails over the taut skin of his sack before encircling the base and gently tugging down.

The relief is subtle, barely enough to edge the pain out, and Timothée whines pitifully, tears springing to his eyes and wetting his lashes before he forces them open again.

"Speak," Armie demands with quiet authority. There's just the hint of a cruel twist to the full lips that had only moments ago praised so sweetly. 

Timothée tries to stifle a sob.

Armie reacts immediately, his fingers relaxing and slipping down from Timothée's throat to reveal pale fingerprint indentations that quickly turn pink around the edges. A beat of silence. "Tim?" Softer. Concerned now.

"I need—" his voice wavers. "I need to c-come. Please, let me come."

Armie nuzzles behind Timothée's ear and purrs softly, " _Oh baby_..." He shuffles them a little closer to the mirror. He peeks out from behind Timmy's touseled hair, only his eyes showing when he whispers, clipping the consonants, "Not. Yet." 

Timothée drops his head back onto Armie's shoulder and pants, his hands fisting and balling up the linen of his shorts in an effort to ground himself and stop the jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through the root of his cock and deep into his belly.

Armie tugs at his balls again, harder, making Timothée yelp and snap his head back up. "I didn't give you permission to look away." His hand is back at his throat. He traces the imprints of his fingers tenderly, his eyes going a bit glassy. The fingers around Timothée's sack relent, caressing instead of tugging now that Timothée's attention is back where it belongs.

Timothée begins to relax under the softer touch.

"Better now?" The edge in Armie's voice is gone.

Timothée nods almost imperceptibly and bites his bottom lip. He's always prided himself on being a fast learner with keen observation skills. Even in the haze of his desire he's quickly picked up on some important cues from Armie. _{{As long as I'm obedient, he's gentle, but...}}_ He closes his eyes to test his theory and is immediately chastened with a sharp pinch to his nipple that brings on prickle of fresh tears.His heart gallops away in his chest, dick jumping and drooling even more in response to this new knowledge. Armie wants his complete submission, and this revelation does something to him— _breaks something free deep inside of him_. He licks his suddenly dry lips and finds his voice."S-sorry.I'm sorry."His remorse is genuine, and it surprises him how easily, how _eagerly_ , he's slipping into this new role.

"Good boy," Armie praises, soothing his bruised nipple with slow circles of his middle finger.

Timothée drags in a deep breath and summons the courage to take it a step further. He very slowly drags his hand up to cover Armie's, his slender fingers hesitantly nudging until he's moving it from his chest back up to his throat. "Please...” His eyes are steady on Armie's in the mirror, but inside he's shaking apart, afraid of pushing too hard and displeasing him. ”...more." Relief washes through him in a flood when he hears a soft, ragged inhale and feels Armie's cock twitch against his ass.

Something changes in Armie's expression. His hand slides up to Timothée's cock again, but the touch remains light, teasing, as do the fingers at his throat.

Timothée squeezes at Armie's fingers and grinds back against him, showing instead of telling of his newly discovered need for Armie's control over him. He's encouraged by the soft groan that shudders through Armie and moves his free hand back between them to cup him."I want to feel you."

Armie grins at him in the mirror. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He stops moving and pulls back enough for Timothée to awkwardly fumble with his zipper, seemingly amused at the struggle but quite content to give Timothée time to calm down by focusing on the task he’s given himself. 

Timothée hears the whisper of fabric as Armie’s shorts fall from his waist and pool around his ankles, and then Armie is nudging forward again, skin to skin. The feel of Armie's naked heat against him makes Timothée giddy.His mouth falls open as his hand brushes over his hard length.

"You like that, hm?"

Timothée squeaks out a sound resembling a yes, making Armie chuckle softly under his breath.

Armie shifts just slightly, and when he does, the underside of his cock is pressed to the soft upper curve of Timothée's ass once again. Timothée moves his hand to the back of Armie's hip and encourages him to grind with tightening fingers and whispered obscenities.

“Fuck," Armie whispers into Timothée's sweat-damp curls as he closes his eyes and rubs himself harder against his skin, quickly finding a rhythm that belies his own need to let go.

The crack in Armie's self-control makes Timothée feel powerful in a way that he's never experienced before. He allows himself the tiniest twitch of a smile before Armie opens his eyes again and shifts his attention back to taking him apart.

Armie's fingers flex, tighten and slide, spreading more of Timothée's pre-come over his length. He builds the pressure so slowly it's maddening.

Timothée tries again to get him to squeeze, angling his jaw and pressing his neck against his palm, but Armie just smiles at him in the mirror and keeps his hand loose. The hand on his dick finds a steady pace and Timothée begins to gasp and buck.

"Are you close, baby?"

Timothée nods wildly, curling the fingers of one hand around Armie's forearm as he strokes him, the others now clawing desperately at the hand on his throat. He feels them begin to press in, and he makes a high pitched mewl that has Armie grinding against him hard and fast.

They shift a half step closer to the mirror, Armie's fingers clamping downon his throat in earnest now.

"Now. Come for me _now_ , Tim."

Armie's voice is rough and deep, but Timothée barely registers it as his vision closes in and he fights to draw even half a breath.He wheezes a nearly silent _'fuck'_ as his cock spasms in Armie's hand and spits a thick glob of cum across the short distance to splatter and drip down the surface of the mirror. In the same instant, Armie releases the pressure on Timothée's throat allowing a flood of oxygen into his system that sends his orgasm into the stratosphere and makes him ecstatically dizzy.

Timothée cries out, limbs going completely rigid and then boneless as Armie continues to work his strokes to direct every gush he possibly can onto the surface of the mirror.

"That's it. I've got you...Daddy's got you," Armie rasps, his mouth buried in Timothée's hair, eyes locked on their reflection and the dick pulsing hard and wet in the tight tunnel of his fingers. He holds him firmly around his chest and supports the full weight of his body as Timothée crests and begins to slide down, watching intently as each spurt grows weaker and weaker until they don’t quite manage to make it to the mirror.

Timothée becomes dimly aware of Armie's now decidedly wet heat grinding insistently into the slack muscles of his ass and the ragged staccato of his breath steaming through his hair down to his tingling scalp. He tries to blink away the foggy afterglow when he feels himself being slowly lowered to the floor.

"Tim."

As he folds down onto his knees, still struggling to catch his breath, he feels Armie's fingers burrow down into his hair. He makes a soft purring sound as Armie's fingernails scratch against his scalp, giving him delicious shivers.

Armie's voice is still rough, but Timothée can tell he's making an effort to soften it. "Baby, are you with me?"

He swallows and croaks, "Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He looks up to find Armie stroking himself slowly in time with the gentle massaging of his fingers at the roots of his hair. He looks wrecked.

"I want you to do something for me."

Timothée comes fully aware now at the desperate sound of Armie's voice. He is immediately eager to please and completely focused on the irresistible vision of Armie pleasuring himself while he kneels on the floor in front of him. " _Anything_. Anything for you…Daddy." He quavers a little as his tongue tries the word for the first time this way. It feels...right. So right.

Armie growls approvingly with a little smirk as he jerks himself faster. "Lick it off for me, kitten."

Timothée's brow furrows in confusion until the grip in his hair shifts and he finds his face being pushed toward the mirror. The tangy scent of his own spunk fills his nostrils and he nearly balks, his eyes going wide in alarm.

Armie tilts his chin down a little, teeth bared slightly. "You said you’d do _anything_. Now clean up your mess, Tim." That edge is back in his voice and in the span of two heartbeats Timothée suddenly can't imagine doing anything _other_ than acquiesce—the very idea of rebelling against Armie's wishes makes his stomach clench.

Timothée mewls softly and blinks back a fresh wash of tears when he feels the sting of a few of his hairs being pulled from their roots. "Yes, sir." His breath steams up the mirror, eyes rolling up to meet Armie's briefly before dropping in a display of absolute submission as his tongue curls out to obey. He glances back up on the first lick, wanting to see if he's pleasing Armie, and finds him watching with an almost chilling intensity.

The hand at Armie's cock speeds up as Timothée's tongue continues tolap at the cooling mess already beginning to coagulate on the glass. He shifts his weight and moves closer, the tip now actually bumping at the back of Timothée's head with each stroke. He tugs harder and directs Timothée's movements as his tongue flattens and swipes at the thick splatters.

"Good boy. Lick it up."

Timothée can hear the slick sounds of Armie's hand moving faster and faster beneath the gruff words of praise. It's humiliating. It's degrading.It's the _most erotic_ thing he's ever experienced. The taste of his own cum coating his tongue. His breath fogging up his vision as he pants and whines through every lick. He tries hard to work up some shame that he's already getting hard again, but it's just not there. He drags his tongue back into his mouth and closes his lips slowly, moaning as if his own spunk is the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.

"Tim—”

His eyes open wide, a soft hiss escaping him at the pain in his scalp as Armie yanks hard...and then he feels it: hot, thick spurts splattering the back of his neck and dripping down his spine. He feels the next shot hit him squarely in the back of the head, seeping down to his scalp and giving him a warm shudder as Armie groans and pants from deep in his chest.

Timothée watches in rapture.Armie is breathtakingly beautiful at the peak of his bliss. Muscles straining and flexing with each wave of pleasure that ripples through him. He braces his palms flat against the mirror and allows his head to be moved at Armie's whim, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the pain.  _{{I did that}}_

He’s still gazing up at him in the mirror with total adoration when Armie finally opens his eyes drowsily with the final pulses of his orgasm. He slowly relaxes his grip on Timothée’s hair and pets it softly as a small, dreamy smile creeps over his lips.

"Was I good, Daddy?"

Armie's smile opens wide. "Yeah. Yeah, you were, baby." He bends down and gently helps Timothée up with one hand under each armpit, then turns him around to gather him against him, chest to chest, with a contented sigh. "You were amazing, Tim. Better than I could've ever imagined." He whispers soft, soothing nonsense between kisses into Timothée's hair, to his temples and cheeks, and finally his open mouth.

Timothée basks in the praise, his mouth slack, eyes sleepy and unfocused. He holds fast to Armie's naked hips, leaning in as though to anchor himself from floating away.

A quiet moan stirs the air between them as Armie’s tongue slides against his own, and Timothée wonders if he can taste the bitter salt still lingering there.

Armie pulls back a little and strokes his thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone as his eyes soften even further. "Hey...you okay?"

"Mm... Yeah. Perfect. Sticky, but perfect."

Armie kisses his nose and smiles. "I like you sticky," he teases.

Timothée wrinkles his nose and grins playfully then pushes his face into Armie's chest, rubbing his lips against the soft hair. "Will you clean me up, Daddy?" he purrs, knowing _exactly_ what kind of power it holds now.

Armie laughs and squashes him in a bear hug. He kisses the top of Timothée's head over and over and rocks him back and forth with a happy, contented groan. "I think I may have just created a monster. Yeah, come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

Timothée pushes back and beams up at him, his excitement over their new dynamic lighting up every feature of his face.


End file.
